


Strange Things Did Happen Here

by Twisted_Magic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, Monsters, Multi, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Spooky, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-05 09:34:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12791727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Magic/pseuds/Twisted_Magic
Summary: With loads of university work, struggling to form a social life, and pining after a rather handsome barista, Remus would consider his life quite ordinary. Until the monsters show up, that is. Now magic is seeping through the seams of reality.





	1. Night Terrors

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from the lyrics of the song The Hanging Tree from The Hunger Games series.

Remus adjusts the messenger bag on his shoulder and sighs. It’s yet another day of uni, and each walk through Dawel from his flat has been getting increasing chillier as the season shifts into fall. Brown leaves crunch underfoot as Remus walks onto campus and heads to his morning lecture. It’s only second year, but Remus is already feeling overwhelmed by the workload and the impending preparation for honours next year. Remus is just doing his best to continue to do well in his classes.

Remus lets out another small sigh once he enters the warmth of the building. He begins to unwrap the wool scarf from around his neck as he nears the lecture hall. There are a surprising amount of students for such a small town, and their echoing footsteps and chatter make the back of Remus’ neck prickle uneasily. Nonetheless, he makes it to the lecture hall without being engaged by anyone, and he slips into a seat near the front.

Latin is one of Remus’ favourite subjects, but today he can’t find it in himself to focus. The professor prattles on at the board, his words flying right over Remus’ head. He’d had the strangest dream last night, filled with running and monsters and shadows, and his head has been buzzing from it ever since he woke up this morning. Remus isn’t one for scary movies, so he has no idea where his brain conjured them from.

But he tries his best to clear his head, and he forces himself to look at and register the words on the board.

  

§§§

 

By the afternoon, Remus has struggled through two other classes, and his brain is ready to melt. His thoughts wouldn’t quiet down throughout any of his classes. Remus massages his forehead as he trudges out of the building. He has an essay for English due at the end of the week that he hasn’t finished yet, so he plans a course of action. There’s construction going on near his flat which would make it much too loud to write an essay, so he pulls out his phone to look up a cafe to sit in. Surprisingly enough, there’s one only a few minutes walk from his flat.

“Would have been nice to have known about that back in year one,” Remus mutters to himself.

The walk is over fairly quickly. The shop is around a corner just off High Street, and it’s tucked between a dingy looking cobbler place and a building that appears to sell plants by the looks all the flora overflowing in the window display. The name of the cafe, The Three Broomsticks, is displayed in neon lights above the door. Remus catches a glimpse of the cozy looking interior as he slips through the door. He is greeted by a wondrous rush of warm air, and he stands there for a moment to collect himself as he takes in his surroundings with more detail.

The brick walls are intermittently interrupted by built in shelves, and Remus’ eyes are immediately drawn to the books they hold. Aside from the shelves, three broomsticks are hung on the far wall in reference to the name of the establishment. The place is crammed with mismatched wooden tables, and on the right is a counter that extends all the way to the back, a few barstools scattered along the length of it. After briefly noting that no one is behind said counter, Remus makes his way to the back corner of the room, weaving his way around several occupied tables. The table in the back corner is small, but he’s grateful to find that it seems to be the warmest spot in the room. He can’t stand the cold.

Remus plunks his bag into the chair next to him, removes a few layers, and takes a moment to soak in the atmosphere of the place. It feels lovely and gentle unlike the busy coffee shop on campus he has been into on occasion. When Remus notices the indie music playing from some speakers overhead, he just about sinks into bliss. But he isn’t here for that, so he pulls out his laptop and sets to work.

An hour easily passes by, and by then Remus is halfway through his essay. However, he’s jolted out of his concentration when The Neighbourhood starts singing over the speakers. They’re his favourite band, so he can’t help looking away from his work in favour of listening to the sweet sound of Sweater Weather. Remus blinks up at the shop before him, trying to adjust his eyes after looking at the brightness of the computer screen for so long. Most of the people from earlier are gone, leaving only a couple sitting by the windows.

Looking down again at his essay, he decides it’s high time he takes a break and gets a drink of some kind. After stretching and standing up, Remus is walking towards the counter when he is faced with the most beautiful man he has ever seen.

The man behind the counter has toned muscles under a grey t-shirt and apron, an angular jawline, and black hair pulled up into a bun atop his head. Remus’ heart stutters when he reaches the counter and the barista looks up at him with a smile. The dim lighting of the bulb overhead makes his eyes glint, and for a moment Remus is lost in the beauty of his steel grey eyes.

“What can I get you?” the man asks, putting down the cloth he had been using to wipe down the wooden countertop. Remus’ face burns under his gaze, and he mentally fumbles for a moment before looking up at the chalkboard menus on the wall.

“Um,” Remus says quietly, “could I please have a large Turkish Coffee?” The man raises his eyebrows and leans onto his crossed arms on the counter.

“Interesting choice,” he says with a smirk, his eyebrows still raised. Remus’ eyes flick down to his smirk. His lips look soft.

“Force of habit,” Remus replies, meeting the man’s gaze and hoping he hadn’t noticed him looking at his mouth. Remus expects him to make a move on making his drink, but the barista stays put, and his smirk only widens.

“Interesting habit,” he presses on. “So, are you a student around here?” Remus shifts a bit uncomfortably, and pulls at the sleeves of his jumper. He can’t actually remember the last time he had a conversation with someone and he feels dreadfully out of practice.

“Yeah,” Remus awkwardly motions in the general direction of Dawel University. “I go to the uni in town.” This suddenly seems painfully obvious, and as a result Remus’ blush worsens. The man seems to be enjoying himself, however.

“Excellent. So do I.” Remus nods, unsure of what else to do.

“What’s your major?”

“Education. You?”

“Visual arts.” Remus then raises his own eyebrows. He wouldn’t have guessed that, but now that it’s been said, Remus can’t help glancing down at the man’s hands and admiring that they do indeed look like the hands of an artist, with lovely long fingers. Remus swallows and looks up, but as if from some unseen cue the barista moves and begins the process of making Remus’ drink.

“I’ll bring it over when it’s done,” he says over his shoulder. Remus thanks him and returns to his laptop. It takes a moment to be able to focus on the words again, but he quickly gets back into the swing of it and types out a few lines before he’s interrupted by the arrival of the barista. Remus blinks up at him as he sets down Remus’ drink in a large orange mug.

“Thank you,” he breathes out as he reaches for the mug.

“No problem,” the man smiles down at him. “Good luck with whatever you’re working on.” Remus thanks him again and goes to take a sip as the man walks away.

“My name is Sirius by the way,” he says over his shoulder. “Like the star.” Remus has to work hard not to choke on his drink; he’s never met someone with a name as strange and obscure as his own.

“Great,” he replies, then mentally kicks himself. “I’m Remus.” The barista seems to have a similar revelation at the sound of Remus’ name before his face cracks into a large grin.

“Wicked.”

 

§§§

 

After a few more hours in The Three Broomsticks, Remus’ essay is complete, leaving only editing to be done. While he’s relieved to have gotten so much work done, he’s now utterly exhausted. He practically drags his feet the whole way home. Once he’s through his door, he drops all his belongings with a sigh and goes to lay down on his bed in the corner. His flat is small and all one room save for the bathroom, so he reaches his bed in a matter seconds and flops down onto it gratefully. Remus had gotten something to eat at the cafe, so he reasons that there’ll be no harm in napping for a bit before catching up on the classes he’d zoned out of earlier. With that in mind, Remus slips into sleep.

 

§§§

 

Remus gasps as he bursts into existence under the darkness of night. He’s on a hilltop overlooking what can only be Dawel. There’s a fierce wind that tugs at Remus’ hair and jumper and blows dead leaves around him. He raises his arm to protect his face a bit from the wind, and that’s when he hears a growl.

Remus whips around to come face to face with a wolf. It slowly strides towards him, it’s fearsome face etched with a snarl. Remus tries to move, but he finds himself trapped in place, unable to look away from the piercing gaze of the wolf. It’s inching towards him, prowling, Remus can almost smell its breath from here, and he’s all of a sudden struck by how human its eyes look. Its eyes are blue. He can’t look away from them.

Remus stands frozen as it leaps at him in a flash of fangs, still looking into those unnerving eyes.

 

§§§

 

Remus falls awake. He frantically blinks the sleep from his eyes and raises himself up from his face down position. His heart seizes with panic when he realizes the room is blanketed in pitch black darkness. He scrambles for his phone and turns on the flashlight. In the security of a slightly brighter room, Remus schools himself into taking some deep breaths. Once his heart is no longer racing, he lays on his back and runs a hand over his face. The dream had lasted only a couple seconds, but after checking the clock on his phone Remus can see he has slept for hours. The dream had the same frightening, nightmarish quality of the one he’d had last night, but this one felt much more real.

Homework forgotten, Remus lies awake late into the night, his eyelids imprinted with the image of a wolf with blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I haven't attempted a multi-chapter fanfic in a while, so I hope I'll be able to keep at it and that the result will be at least semi enjoyable.
> 
> I also wanted to point out that while this is set in England, the town of Dawel is made up, and I am purposely going to leave the exact location ambiguous. I wanted the freedom to build the town the way I see it in my head.
> 
> To all those who have/had exams, best of luck to you!


	2. Heavy Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Trigger warning * - There is an anxiety attack at the end of the chapter

It’s Sunday, and Remus can’t sleep. The nightmares have been getting worse and more frequent throughout the week. Early morning sunlight filters through the curtains of the window to the side of Remus’ bed, but he has the blankets pulled over his head in a desperate attempt to shut it out.

Remus shivers weakly. He’s a bit behind with his rent, so he’s had to forgo paying for heating in order to save money. He rubs his hands together to try warm them up, but it’s useless. He’s cold, stiff, and heavy with exhaustion after another sleepless night.

So Remus reasons with himself that he might as well get up. He wiggles himself out of his cocoon with a rustle of the covers and drags himself upright in bed. Remus groggily looks around him. Then he’s shocked to see his breath cloud in the air in front of him.

“Fuck.”

Remus knows he definitely won’t be getting back to sleep in this cold; so he drags himself out of bed, and he gets dressed. His outfit is his usual choice of scuffed jeans and a loose jumper, both of which could admittedly use a wash, but the important thing is that he feels slightly warmer. He shuffles over to the tiny kitchenette in the far corner and flicks on the electric kettle. If he’s going to pay for anything electrical in his apartment, it’s going to be his kettle.

While waiting for that to boil, and for the toaster to finish his toast after he pops that in, Remus makes his way into the bathroom. Upon turning on the light he’s immediately confronted by his reflection. There are dark circles under his eyes, his sandy brown hair is messed up, and his complexion has definitely seen better days. Remus approaches the mirror and inspects himself closer.

“You look like shit,” he tells his reflection.

Out of habit, Remus’ hand raises up to trace the two scars on his face. One slicing through his right eyebrow, and the other just below his lip. Such small things for such a big deal. But Remus is saved from dwelling on old memories by the whistling of the kettle. He turns off the light and starts his day.

 

§§§

 

Remus puts down his textbook and shakes out his hands. He’s been steadily working through the assigned reading for the weekend, but his fingers are stiff from the cold and frankly, it’s distracting. Remus runs his hands over his face with a frustrated sigh. He knows his best bet would be to go somewhere warm to finish his reading. Like a certain cafe. But Remus can’t help feeling apprehensive about returning there. While Sirius was very handsome, Remus can’t help feeling anxious about the thought of having to carry a conversation with him again. Plus, he doesn’t have the money to be buying nice drinks.

But after fumbling with turning a page because his hands are so cold, Remus reluctantly makes a decision and packs his things.

By the time he reaches The Three Broomsticks, Remus is utterly frozen, and he actually has to rest against the doorframe due to the dizziness from the sudden heat.

“You alright?”

Remus blinks spots from his vision and looks up to meet the gaze of Sirius. Remus nods and pushes himself off the frame.

“Just hot in here,” he mumbles as he heads up to the counter. Sirius’ hair is up in a bun again, though this time he has a pencil stuck in it, which for some reason makes Remus’ insides squirm pleasantly. Sirius leans on the counter like last time and smirks up at him.

“Is it cold out there?” he asks through his smirk.

“It's bloody freezing,” Remus says before he can stop himself. Sirius lets out a laugh. It’s loud, and genuine, and it makes Remus’ heart jump into a faster pace.

“Well would you like a hot drink then?” Sirius implores, already heading over to the stack of mugs. Remus nods.

“A large Turkish coffee, please.” Sirius shakes his head in amusement.

“Great choice.”

After placing his payment on the counter by the till, Remus heads to the same table in the back to wait for his coffee. The table is thankfully unoccupied, so Remus sinks into the chair with a sigh, relishing the heat. Dotan is playing over the speakers. It feels so peaceful here it’s almost a shame to waste it by focusing on homework. But he pulls out his textbook anyways, and he sets to work.

At some point during his readings it starts to rain. Remus looks up from his drink and takes in the sudden downpour. A few people are running by on the street in search of cover, and one of those people slams open the cafe door to rush in. The man lets out a theatrical huff as he strips himself of his wet coat. Even though his hair is sopping wet, it’s sticking up in wild directions, and his glasses are ascue. Remus can’t help but smile in amusement at the sight.

“Bloody rain!” the man exclaims as he strides to the back of the room. Sirius laughs loudly at the man.

“Did you have a nice walk, there, Prongs?” Sirius asks in a teasing tone. The man rolls his eyes and throws his wet coat at Sirius before ducking through a door. A few moments later, Prongs reappears behind the counter tying an apron behind his back. Remus can’t help but watch the two men out of the corner of his eye, smiling again when he sees the two of them scuffle playfully for a moment. There’s a brotherly kind of appearance to them.

But Remus can’t sit around looking forever, so he turns his attention back to the drink in his hand. He drains the last few drops, and then––out of a years old habit––places the mug upside down on the saucer. Turkish coffee was popular in his house growing up, and his mother had firmly believed in the superstition that the leftover grounds in the drink could be used for fortune telling. She would turn the cup upside down to wait for it to cool, then turn it back over, and point out supposed patterns to a young, wide-eyed Remus. All he ever saw was just blobs of grounds, no images to be seen. But it was a nice way to remember her, like she was there with him, so Remus carried on with the tradition.

After waiting a few minutes, Remus reaches for his mug while reading through a particularly stuffy passage, picks it up, and stares down at the undeniable shape of a dog at the bottom of his cup.

Remus blinks at it. He’s never seen patterns before. Why he suddenly can now is disconcerting. As Remus stares at the image, the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and for some unknown reason a feeling of unease settles in his stomach.

“What are you up to?”

Remus jumps at the voice. Sirius is standing over his table, clearly having been watching Remus looking at his mug. A blush quickly spreads over Remus’ cheeks as his places the mug back down on the saucer and clears his throat.

“Assigned reading,” he replies.

“For what class?” Sirius asks, and he sits down in the chair on the other side of the table. Remus blinks at this, wondering why he’s sitting down.

“Philosophy,” he mutters, still staring at Sirius warily. The other man makes an impressed face.

“I had to drop that class in first year,” Sirius shares, “it was so confusing. I’m glad you could make sense of it and stick with it.” Remus blushes again and shrugs, unsure of how to answer.

They sit in silence for a few moments. Usually silences like this drive Remus’ social anxiety through the roof, but he’s surprised to find that it actually feels alright. There’s no pressure, it’s just companionable.

This is ruined, however, when Remus catches Sirius dragging his eyes down to what must be Remus’ lips. Remus tenses. Sirius’ mouth opens, and Remus is sure he’s going to ask about the scar there, so he clears his own throat. Sirius blinks up at him and closes his mouth.

“I should get going,” Remus says, his voice sounding a little strained. A look of disappointment immediately crosses Sirius’ face. Remus’ stomach drops. Sirius quickly turns it into a smile, but the damage has already been done.

“Alright,” he returns. “Well, it was nice talking to you.” Remus clutches his textbook tightly as Sirius rises.

“You too.”

Once left alone once again, Remus quietly collects his things, and slips out of the shop.

 

§§§

 

Remus vomits. He’s gasping, but it keeps coming up.

He can’t stop thinking about everything that’s ever gone wrong in his life: his mother’s early death; his father’s awful behaviour; Remus’ crushing debt from student loans; and now, on top of everything else, Sirius’ disappointed face. Everything around him turns to ruins. And this leaves him on his bathroom floor, throwing up into the toilet with tears streaming down his face.

Remus lets out a sob and a cough, and they echo strangely in the toilet bowl. He looks down at the long scar that laces itself across the back of his hand and off the edge of his forearm. He throws up again.

It’s a while until Remus calms down, and by then he’s exhausted. He sluggishly strips himself and crawls into bed. He doesn’t even care that it’s only early afternoon and that he hasn’t finished his readings yet. Within minutes, Remus is drifting off to sleep, and for the first time in a week he doesn’t have a single dream.


	3. The Beginning of Something

Today, miraculously, wasn’t too bad. Remus hasn’t been plagued by nightmares in a few days now, so he’s actually been managing to catch up on sleep. His classes have been going well again, and today he’d gotten back an assignment to see he’d gotten rather a good grade on it. Things are going great. Until he drops his books, that is.

A student running by smashes into Remus’ shoulder, and the textbooks in Remus’ hands go flying. The student apologizes before disappearing in a flash, clearly in a hurry. Remus’ chest squeezes uncomfortably at the sight of his books on the ground, and he quickly drops to his knees to collect them. He lets out a small pained noise when he sees that the cover of one of them has bent. Remus can’t stand his books getting damaged. He carefully flattens it out again, internally cursing at the other student.

“Oh, do you need some help there?” someone above Remus asks. Remus catches a glimpse of expensive looking black leather shoes before the person is kneeling down, reaching for the other books, and meeting Remus’ gaze.

“Sirius.”

Sirius blinks at Remus in surprise for a moment, then smiles in delight, then ultimately drops into evident discomfort.

“Hi, Remus.” Sirius looks down and hands Remus the last of his books, who thanks him in return. They both rise, and then they’re both facing each other. Tension taints the air. Remus can hear his heart pounding, and Sirius’ quick breaths, and there’s a moment where their clouding breaths mingle.

“Alright?” Sirius asks, and the spell is broken.

“Yeah,” Remus nods. He looks back down at his books, mindlessly fiddling with the bent cover. “Thank you for helping me out.” Sirius nods as well, and looks around.

Silence falls over them both. Their breaths continue to fill the air, and the wind is just a little too brisk. Remus is painfully aware of how uncomfortable everything about this situation is. So he breaks.

“I’m sorry about the other day.”

Sirius looks back at him, and surprise is once again painting his features.

“ _ You’re _ sorry?” Sirius asks. “No, I’m the one who, erh, made you uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have been...ah.” He looks down at his fancy shoes, and Remus notices for the first time that the other man’s hair is undone, for it falls in a curtain around his face. Remus swallows.

“It’s alright,” he strains out. “I just… I don’t like talking about my scars, so I, I freaked out.”

Sirius’ head suddenly whips up. Remus takes a step back. There’s an odd expression on his face, and Remus can’t decipher it.

“You thought I was going to ask about the scars on your face?” The question is blurted out, and Remus is really, really confused.

“You weren’t?”

Sirius shakes his head, and he’s suddenly all smiles.

“No no, don’t worry.”

Remus is worried. He has no idea what’s going on.

But his bewildered state is brought to an abrupt end by the arrival of Prongs. The man jumps onto Sirius’ back, who lets out a squawk. They’re a tumbling mess of limbs and black hair.

“What the hell?” Sirius throws a cackling Prongs off of him.

“Evening, Padfoot,” Prongs greets with a smirk. “You were supposed to meet me by the fountain, you git.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, but Prongs finally seems to take notice of Remus’ presence.

“Who’s this?” he asks. Remus shifts, suddenly wondering whether he should have walked off by now.

“This is Remus, he’s been to the cafe a few times,” Sirius shares, “and this is James, my mate since grade school.” Remus blinks.

“I thought he was Prongs.” Sirius and James both laugh at the same time. Remus takes another step back.

“Ah, that’s just his nickname,” Sirius explains with mirth in his eyes. He looks lovely and alive like this, so when Remus nods in response he can’t help but let a smile of his own slip out.

“And we’ll not get into that now!” James interjects rather loudly. “Anyways, Pads and I have a busy evening ahead of us, so we should get going, yeah?” James looks at Sirius (also known as Padfoot/Pads?), and tilts his head owlishly when Sirius hesitates. 

“Would you like to join us?” Sirius asks, and he looks up at Remus through a few strands of tousled hair. Sirius looks and sounds almost nervous; but his grey eyes are boring into him, and it’s all so enchanting.

“Uh, are you sure?” Remus replies. His heart is beginning to race with the thought of spending the evening with Sirius, and his friend too, of course. There’s something electrifying about Sirius’ presence, and Remus, who usually floats in an oblivion of books and tea and quiet nights in, wants to relish in it. If only for one night.

“Absolutely,” Sirius says, a shy sly smile creeping onto his face. 

Remus smiles back.

 

§§§

 

The three are in a pub, and Remus can’t remember the last time he felt this at ease. Apparently the plan for after supper is to go see a band that’s performing, and a sense of excitement and adventure is in the air. The conversations Sirius and James have been throwing around over the table have been energetic, and sometimes even teasing a laugh out of Remus here and there. It seems that Sirius has entirely forgotten the tension from earlier, everything feels relaxed.

“So you want to know why we call him Prongs?” Sirius inquires devilishly, leaning over his plate with a wiggle of his eyebrows. 

“Oi!” James cries, spreading his arms. “I thought I said not to get into that?”

“Yes, but that was earlier, Jamsey, and this is later.”

Sirius scoots his chair closer to the table and pauses for dramatic effect. The lighting of the pub is dim, and it casts a soft glow across Sirius’ face, giving him a slightly unearthly appearance. 

“See,” he begins, carding his long fingers together, “in fifth form, we took a trip to one of those places where they have fancy birds and monkeys and big cats and such.”

“A zoo?” Remus supplies tentatively with a quirk of his lips. James rolls his eyes and shoves Sirius good naturally.

“If you’re going to tell the story, just get it over with and stop acting like a ninny.”

Sirius laughs and shoves James back, before returning his amused gaze back to Remus. Remus’ breath catches in his throat for a moment at the way the soft light hits his eyes.

“Right,” Sirius continues, “so there was this fenced off bit with deer, and for a few pence you could get some feed for them.” Remus nods and props his head up on his hand.

“Well, James here blew two whole pounds on food,” 

“Oh god,” Remus interjects, hiding his face in his sweatered hand.

“Oh  _ yes _ ,” Sirius grins. “It was money well spent though, because once his hands were positively overflowing with food, he’s standing there right next to the stag enclosure, when one of the stags goes a bit mad.” James groans, but he has a grin of his own on his face.

“It just goes ballistic at the sight of all the food, and it’s so excited it  _ charges _ right to the fence. Long story short, James here got a face full of pointy antlers. Thus, Prongs.” Remus lets out a laugh, and Sirius immediately joins in.

“Hey, don’t laugh, if my glasses hadn’t been on, my eyes would have been taken out!” But James is laughing too, and Remus feels warm.

 

§§§

 

After supper, they walk to Sirius’ place in the dark. The night is still young, and so are they; everything feels alive. Their laughter is echoing through the empty streets, dead leaves are spiraling around their feet, and Remus can practically taste the anticipation on the cold air.

“Um, sorry, why are we going to yours?” Remus asks when there’s a lull in conversation.

“Sirius needs to change into something more punk,” James replies immediately. Remus hums, and takes a glance at Sirius’ leather jacket and leather shoes. He wonders what ‘more punk’ will look like, and quickly finds his face growing warm. He looks away.

“Well, here we are,” Sirius announces. Remus looks up, and takes in the sleek black wood of the flat’s door. It even has a brass knocker on it. Remus’ stomach drops. He’s realizing now that he’s in the company of well off people, and he’s not entirely sure what to do now that he knows. 

But when Sirius unlocks the door, Remus still follows them into the lit passage. They head up to the third and highest floor of the building, on which Sirius’ flat is. Once inside, the lights are flicked on, and Remus is not greeted by gleaming wealth as he had expected, but by a complete and utter mess. 

There are blank canvases, sketchbooks, jars of drawing utensils, and photographs scattered about the living room. The mess even spills into the attached kitchen, with paintbrushes sticking out of the deep basin sink. Sirius and James stride towards what must be Sirius’ room, chattering about something or other. But Remus stays where he is. He looks around himself and breaths it all in. 

The place screams hipster, and Remus can’t help but instantly fall in love with it. Lighting is provided by strings of large bulbs, there are pots of plants on any surface not occupied by art supplies, and there’s even a record player set up on a small table by the balcony. Remus drifts over to it. The curtains are open, and the mixture of the lights overhead and the streetlights outside cast a warm orange glow over it and the record on it. Remus tilts his head and looks at the sleeve propped against the wall: The Ramones. A smile teases Remus’ lips. 

“Punk indeed,” he mumbles to himself.

“What’s this about punk?” Sirius suddenly asks. Remus turns, and Sirius is standing right there, and he looks amazing. His hair is once again up in a bun, but this time it’s extremely messy and several strands are hanging loose, framing his face. Sirius is wearing a band tshirt, most likely for the people they’re going to see tonight, and he’s wearing some rather tight ripped black jeans. Remus is sure his face is burning, and just then he can’t seem to come up with a proper response.

“Er, um,” and that’s the best he can do. But Sirius somehow seems to take delight in this, for his smirk widens into a grin. Remus squirms. 

“Anyways,” Sirius carries on thankfully, “I’ve got something for you to wear too, if you like.” Remus looks down, and for the first time takes notice of the bundle of clothes in Sirius’ hands.

“You look good as you are,” Sirius assures, making Remus’ stomach flip, “but it’s rather a different scene from jumpers, you know.” Remus nods and thanks him, accepting the clothes. A thrill runs through him. He’s going to wear some of Sirius’ clothes. Clothes that Sirius has worn. Clothes that will smell of Sirius.

Remus doesn’t know how he’ll survive the night if his stomach doesn’t stop flipping like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn't catch on, in the last chapter Sirius had been looking at Remus' lips because he wanted to kiss him and all, but when Remus made to leave, Sirius had assumed it was because Remus had guessed he was gay and wasn't okay with that, so Sirius felt awkward seeing Remus in this chapter. They're both so blind. They'll figure stuff out eventually, though.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
